


i just want you for my own

by safflowerseason



Series: Bring Me to Light [2]
Category: Veep (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21960025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safflowerseason/pseuds/safflowerseason
Summary: Dan teaches Cassie to ice skate. Amy watches. Set three months before the events of Bring Me to Light.
Relationships: Amy Brookheimer/Dan Egan
Series: Bring Me to Light [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580887
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	i just want you for my own

**Author's Note:**

> To my wonderful and faithful Bring Me to Light readers, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. My gift to you is some shameless, holiday fever-dream BMTL fluff.

* * *

_December 19th, 2024_

Amy’s ass is frozen.

She’s wearing approximately forty layers of clothing—long underwear underneath her jeans, one of Dan’s expensive wool sweaters over whatever top she had pulled on that morning, a down jacket, a thick scarf and gloves, two pairs of socks, and somehow it still feels like her body and the bench beneath her have fused into a single ice block.

It’s fucking _cold_ in December in upstate New York.

“Whose idea was this fucking tour, anyway?” She had grumbled to Liz that morning, as they made their way to a visit with some rangers at Adirondack State Park.

Liz had laughed, looking offensively cheerful. “I believe that would be yours. And no, I don’t accept your resignation.”

Amy chose to ignore the fact that her boss was right. (It was too cold to be reasonable). The Senate was out of session, Liz wanted to do _something_ constructive before Christmas, and so Amy had proposed a miniature five-day tour of northern New York. Winter tourism was a huge part of the local economy up there; they could visit some state parks, talk about the new tourism initiative Liz wanted to start, and court some big-timber titans. Liz could bring her family along, there would be plentiful opportunities for holiday photo-ops with the locals, and and they could all try to forget that in January, Jonah fucking Ryan would be inaugurated as the next president.

With D.C. a fucking bleak place to be right now, Dan had elected to come along as well. His parents were in Florida, so there was no risk of running into them. And the trip gave him an excuse to buy a few dozen high-end winter sweaters that made him look like a rugged outdoorsman, even though they were only going to be gone for five days, and even though Dan never liked to go anywhere he couldn’t schedule an emergency spa appointment within twenty-four hours.

If she thinks about it, it’s really _Dan’s_ fault Amy’s stuck here, sitting on this frozen bench for what feels like hours and hours, but according to the time on her phone, has actually only been forty-five minutes.

The ice-skating was his idea, after all.

“Mommy! Mommy, look at me! Look at me!”

Well, it was Cassidy’s idea first. But Amy blames Dan for going along with it.

“I’m looking!” Amy forces her numb lips into a smile and removes one gloved hand from where it’s shoved deep into her pocket in order to wave at her daughter, who is tentatively making her way around the picturesque ice rink. “Oh sh—Cassie, watch out!”

Distracted with trying to catch her mother’s attention, Cassie trips over an invisible dip and goes tumbling into the ice, sliding into the side of the rink. Quick as a flash, before Amy can blink or yell or move, Dan swoops out of nowhere in a shower of ice flakes and plucks Cassidy up off the ice, so fast that her shriek of dismay turns into a shriek of delight.

Amy gets her breath back. The way Dan moves over the ice, the way he neatly balances Cassidy against his side, so lightly and yet so sure, thaws her slightly.

As befitted many upper-middle class kids from upstate New York, Dan was familiar with a variety of ice sports…but then he went through puberty and decided, at the age of fourteen, that he couldn’t risk anything happening to his precious face (which, as a forty-three year old adult man, he still referred to unironically as _the moneymaker_ ), so he dropped ice hockey in favor of golf. (It isn’t even a real fucking sport, if you ask Amy).

But he could still skate.

They had been walking back to the hotel, after the last event of the week. Cassidy, learning how to pick her battles based on the rhythms of her parents’ work schedule, chose that moment to start exclaiming over the ice rink, which was still decently populated with skaters even in the late afternoon.

Amy was more than ready to shut her down, go back to the hotel and thaw herself in front of the fire in the hotel lobby until dinner, but…Dan got that eager gleam in his eye whenever a valuable social media opportunity presented itself, and decided that sure, there was time for a quick skating lesson. So here Amy was, freezing her extremities off in the dying sunlight, curling and uncurling her toes inside her too-tight skates, and trying to look appropriately interested whenever Cassidy called her name. And she can’t check her email or do anything real on her phone—besides take a few pictures, even though Dan’s already snapped enough for a week’s worth of Instagram Stories—because that would require taking off her gloves.

(Dan insisted on renting her a pair of skates as well, even though she point-blank refused to get on the ice. She had gone a few times as a kid and a teenager, and…well, those experiences had basically cured her of any interest in the sport. Dan had rolled his eyes and snarked, “Suit yourself, have fun freezing your ass off.”)

Dan has set Cassie back down on the ice, but unnerved by her fall, she’s clinging tightly to his hand and looks stubbornly unwilling to let go of it at any time soon. Amy catches a rueful, indulgent smile on Dan’s face as he maneuvers in front of her to make sure she’s got her balance. He bends over to talk to her and Cassie tips her head to his, seeking reassurance. Her hair is starting to come loose from the braids Amy had hastily done up this morning, in the car on the way to the park rangers’ headquarters, and Dan tucks the stray strands behind her ear and rearranges her hat before straightening up. Amy can’t hear what he’s saying—something cheesily inspirational and transparently bullshit, no doubt—but whatever it is, Cassie furrows her brow in increased determination (or suspicion, Amy can’t tell which.)

Dan starts skating backwards, still holding Cassie’s hand, pulling her along. When she seems slightly more at ease, he lets go. Cassie doesn’t stumble or lunge for his hand, just keeps her eyes fixed on her dad, giant and trusting, and Dan grins and nods approvingly. He circles around Cassie a few times, which makes her glare at him and pick her up her own speed, and eventually Dan falls back a few paces and lets her skate ahead of him, her strokes over the ice becoming more confident again. Amy watches, forgetting for a moment how cold she is as the familiar (and fragile) little glow spreads through her. Even though there are much bigger and much faster skaters on the ice, Cassidy is fearless again, shaking off Dan when she thinks he gets too close.

(Amy is suddenly seized by how _big_ Cassie has gotten in the last year, how fast she’s grown, and yet she is still so, _so_ small, so small and so breakable. And every day Amy lets her out into the world, a world which is shitty and unfair and broken, and she wants Cassie to be able to face it head on, unflinching…but she never, never forgets what that means. Dan doesn’t get this, doesn’t want to understand it or think about it, but Amy never forgets.)

“Ames…Earth to Amy…”

Amy blinks, and everything comes back into focus. Dan has skated over to her side of the rink, and he’s now standing just a few feet away, waving a hand at her exasperatedly.

“Hi.” he says when she meets his gaze, grinning in what he obviously thinks is a winning manner.

“What?” she asks him, suspiciously.

He holds out a hand to her. “Come here.”

“Dan…”

“It’s _fun._ You look miserable sitting there, and it’s making me look bad.”

“ _No_.” she repeats. “I’ll look ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but next to me, it’ll just come off as cute. I’ll hold your hand and everything, so you won’t risk physical injury.”

When she doesn’t move, he rolls his eyes and tries again.

“Ames, come on,” he repeats, cajolingly. “You’ll warm up, if nothing else.”

Ultimately, that’s what prompts Amy to uncurl her fingers from around the edge of the bench. At least Dan is always ten degrees warmer than she is. Tentatively, she stands and wobbles her way to the edge of the ice. Dan looks angelically patient, which means he’s just holding back some quip about how awkward she must look. She grasps the railing with one hand and reaches for Dan with the other. His gloved hand is firm and warm around hers, and he smiles encouragingly.

“There you go.” he says, as she steps onto the ice. It’s been years since she’s done this, and it takes a second to figure out how to bend her knees the right way and propel herself (in minute increments) across the slippery surface. After a few moments, Dan winces dramatically.

“Okay, _relax,_ Amy, you haven’t squeezed my hand this hard since you were contracting in the back of that Secret Service limo, and there’s no fucking way _this_ is harder than that.”

“And what the fuck would you know about it?” Amy mutters, finally secure enough to raise her eyes from her toes. “Where is Cassie, anyway?”

“She’s fine, she’s over there.” Dan replies, gesturing carelessly. Easily visible in her bright red scarf and matching hat, Cassie is studiously skating ahead of them. “She’s having a lot more fun than you are. Maybe…we should do this again. We can go to the sculpture garden rink by the National Gallery.”

Amy makes a face. “Haven’t you gotten enough holiday-themed content today to satisfy the salivating horde of delusional “Eager-for-Egan” fans who stalk you across the city?”

“Those crazies? Please, they can’t get enough of me in flannel.”

Amy laughs in spite of herself, but it quickly dissolves into a shiver. “Jesus fuck, Dan, no wonder you moved south.”

“It gets cold in D.C. too, Ames.”

“Not like this. I could see my breath _indoors_ this morning.”

Without warning, Dan slides backward over the ice in a dramatic arc, pulling her after him and leaving the railing far behind. Amy squeaks in rage and practically slams herself into his chest, clutching at the open collar of his down jacket in order to regain her balance.

“Dan!” she hisses when she can speak, her heart pounding in her throat. “What the _fuck_ is your problem?!”

Dan just laughs, close enough now that the sound vibrates through her. “I’m just trying to warm you up with a little adrenaline rush.”

“It didn’t work, you sociopathic asshat. I’m still freezing _and_ my fucking lungs have stopped.”

In response, he just slides his hands underneath her coat to grip her waist more firmly, pulling her in so she’s practically flush against him. “Damn, guess I’ll have to try something else.”

“You’re such a dumbass.” Amy says, but doesn’t move away, because moving away means falling over, and also because he’s so warm and broad and solid, like this, and she can’t resist the urge to lean into him fully. “You could have just _told_ me you wanted to feel me up on ice skates.”

Dan’s smile gets even more shameless. “But my way is more fun.”

Winter looks very good on him. His freckles stand out more in the cold, his cheeks are flushed, and the icy breeze has mussed up his hair, but she has no intention of telling him so (she secretly likes it when it’s less perfect…it reminds of her of Dan on early weekend mornings, when he wanders around their kitchen, making coffee in an old Rangers sweatshirt with his hair sticking up at the back, the version of Dan only she gets to see).

Even after…even after all this time, even a year and a few months of being _married,_ for fuck’s sake, the heat of his gaze still makes her blush, so she looks away from him, out over the rink to the landscape beyond. They’re staying in some picturesque little town adjacent to where they hosted the Winter Olympics, and beyond the landmark hotel and the main street, there’s not much else…just the frozen lake and hills dotted with trees spreading out around them, covered in pristine, undisturbed snow, tinted gold from the sun that’s just started to set. Underneath the clamor and swoosh of the ice skaters, Amy can hear the wind gushing around the giant trees. There’s a stereo system somewhere weakly pumping out Christmas carols, and the whole scene is just too much of a fucking postcard to be real.

“It’s so pretty here. It’s…gross.” she grumbles, more to herself than to Dan, but he laughs anyway, running a hand up and down her back.

“Think you’ve warmed up enough to catch up to Cassie?”

“If you’re _nice._ ” she replies, warningly, but lets him step back and take her hand. They fall in line with the other skaters, and Amy lets Dan lead her over the ice, satisfied that he’s not fucking with her anymore. This way, she doesn’t have to worry about losing her balance or tripping over her own feet. Ahead of them, Cassie appears completely absorbed in her skates…Amy wouldn’t be surprised if she’s temporarily forgotten that her parents exist.

“How do you think the week went?” Dan asks, after a while.

Amy shrugs. “Fine. I’d have liked a bigger crowd on Tuesday, but overall it went well. She can fucking code-switch like nobody’s business…talk about _folksy_.”

“She got better press than Jonah all week.” Dan muses. “That ass clown is at least going to lower the bar for public appearances. The regular party donors are going to be fucking desperate for someone who can stand up _and_ speak in coherent sentences at the same time.”

“Sure, if the Tanzes don’t keep buying them off.”

He shrugs that off. “Whatever, the novelty of that will fucking wear off…we can think of a way to make it backfire.”

“Yes, because people frequently get tired of _money_.” Amy retorts, but not too meanly…she knows he’s just trying to buck her up.. Dan opens his mouth to respond, but then they’re both distracted by Cassidy, who has slowed her pace significantly and has started to wobble as a result.

“Hey, steady there, kid.” Dan calls, and drops Amy’s hand so he can swish over and prevent her from falling again.

“Mommy!” Cassie exclaims, ignoring her father. “You came skating too!”

“Uh huh…” Amy replies, through a clenched smile, and heroically manages to skate over to the two of them without toppling to the ground. Up close, Cassie looks simultaneously exhilarated and exhausted, the cold highlighting her china-doll looks, sooty eyelashes drooping over robin’s egg eyes. Her cheeks are pink like Dan’s, and her nose is running slightly from the cold. Amy fishes in her pocket for a tissue. “What do you think of ice-skating, huh?”

Cassie blows out her breath, leaning dramatically against Dan. “It is _hard._ ”

Dan reaches out and reties her scarf, which is almost trailing on the ground. “What?! But you make it look so easy.”

“Daddy…” she whines, clearly over it, and there’s a high-pitched, fractious note in her voice that Amy recognizes as a warning sign. “Can I see the phone?”

She wants to see the pictures he took, they both know, and Dan just grins while Amy refrains from rolling her eyes.

“You can look at them during dinner, Cassie.” she answers, before Dan can give in to her request. “It’s too cold just to stand here looking at a phone.”

“Then I want to go in.” her daughter pouts in response.

“Sure,” Dan agrees, affably. Too affably. “Lead the way, kid.”

Cassidy sighs, like she’s responsible for _everything_ , and with a little push from Dan, starts skating off in the direction of the hotel. Without further ado, Dan grabs Amy’s hand and follows.

Amy looks at him suspiciously. “You gave in with minimal teasing…what’s up? It’s not like our room is _that_ nice.” The hotel is an old Olympic resort, but they’re staying in the most modest rooms since they’re technically working.

Dan shrugs, not looking at her. “The sun’s going down, and I’m hungry, and there’s only so many times I can watch Cassidy make a circle around the ice before it gets boring…”

“And…” Amy prompts him. Not believing any of those excuses for a second. 

“And…after dinner, I think a little soak in the hot-tub is required, so we don’t wake up with sore muscles tomorrow, so I want to make sure there’s plenty of time for that.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not setting foot in whatever suspicious public facility—”

“ _Well,_ for your information, Ames, I upgraded us this morning.” Dan interrupts, looking immensely pleased with himself. “We’re off the clock, so there’s no need to pretend to be fiscally responsible or whatever the fuck for Liz’s voters, and we’re not leaving until tomorrow…I figured one night in the Olympic Suite would be suitably festive.” She must look completely dumbfounded, because he adds, “There’s a private balcony, complete with a Jacuzzi and complimentary champagne and a pretty nice view of the lake.”

Amy opens her mouth and then closes it again, staring at Dan in disbelief. She had been expecting to get back to the hotel, crank up the shitty heater in the drafty room they were sharing with Cassidy, bury herself in every available blanket, and shiver until their flight tomorrow morning. Now…she gets to actually _relax,_ to really shake off the long week with Dan, with heat and champagne and _privacy_ …(and of course they’ll talk about work, but afterwards…)

“…You’re _welcome_.” Dan says into the silence, smirking all over his stupid face, clearly delighted to have surprised her.

“…what about Cassie?” Amy manages to ask. The evening that she’s suddenly and vividly picturing does not involve a needy and inquisitive five-year-old.

Dan rolls his eyes. “Why else do you think I’ve been tiring her out for the past hour? She’ll sleep like a fucking rock tonight, and we’ll be free to…entertain ourselves.”

Amy raises an eyebrow, trying hard to conceal just how pleased she is. “Dan, I just…this is such an _unprecedented_ degree of strategic thinking from you…it’s truly a Christmas miracle.”

“Fuck off.” Dan retorts, but he wraps an arm around her shoulders as he says it, pulling her into him. Amy shifts so her cheek rests more firmly against his shoulder. He smells like his cologne and the outdoors, fir trees and crisp snow and damp wool, and she can feel him smiling against her hair, and right now, Amy feels as light as a snowflake. In the distance, Cassidy’s red scarf flutters like a cardinal’s wing, as she turns to wait for her parents to catch up.

“And don’t worry if you haven’t gotten me anything yet, I can think of a _number_ of appropriate thank-you presents.”

She laughs. “Warm me up first, jackass." 

* * *


End file.
